When he arrived at the pier, panting from running and jumping all the stairs down as fast as possible, it was hard for him not to grimace at the scene in front of him. An unconscious Gessler knelt down at the dock's edge, hunched over and right next to him, the man responsible for it all.
"Hallo, Dorn. I've been waiting for you."
N's lips twitched. The blond had the audacity to greet the policeman with a wide smile, as if he had reconnected with an old friend of his.
Hello, my ass.
Henning almost gagged.
"N." Dorn came closer, but still kept a reasonable amount of distance. His footsteps made the wood beneath him creak. "You still owe me answers. And I want my partner back."
His gaze went to Gessler, scanning for blood or any obvious wounds. Apart from a few bruises from their fight and being out cold as a result, he didn't seem to be hurt that badly. He'd probably complain about the pain as soon as he woke up, but Dorn felt relief to know that he at least would be alive. Even a specialist like Arzt wouldn't be able to raise the dead, if worst came to worst.
He reshifted his focus to the blond, still wary, strategizing how to get out of this mess. Come to think of it, how had N been able to knock Christian out in the first place? Stature-wise, N was slimmer than Gessler, therefore, less muscular and he always assumed him to be rather frail. Unlike when he assaulted Dorn, there was no moment of surprise for him to abuse. Where did that power stem from? On second thought, maybe he just had overestimated the journalist. He did talk a lot of smack, after all.
"We'll see what I can do." Schrödinger made a gesture with his hand, as if he was calling a dog to him. "Go for it." He held up three fingers. "Only three questions."
Dorn inhaled sharply. Keeping composure felt too difficult at this point, but he couldn't let the chance slip to get clearance. He had to choose wisely which questions to ask or else he'd end up not understanding the big picture of it all.
Henning glanced around, scanning the area. No sight of her.
As if he could read his mind, N chose to answer the question lingering on Dorn's tongue. The blond tsked. "She got away." Then, he shrugged. "That traitor's faster than me in the waters, but I'm stronger."
Traitor?
Fräulein was a traitor? The policeman didn't know what to believe. There was still a possibility he lied, considering he didn't make sense at all. As of right now, it was fact that she wasn't here. Henning prayed that N told the truth about her escape.
"Oh, and Fräulein is such a stupid name for her. She's a real celebrity – pardon, a legend- out of all of us, you know?"
Us? Fräulein – a legend? Just what was he talking about?
Dorn chose to ignore the male's derogatory comments. The policeman needed answers and the more valuable intel he could lure out of his opponent without asking directly, the better.
"How do you know of Ruven?" First question. He'd keep tabs.
"Ruven? Ahh, my dear friend Ruven." N's hand moved to his left side, the spot where a heart should reside. "He was the one soldier who saved me when those bombs hit the Rhine and its waters. I'm the only one of my kind who managed to crawl onto the shore and he was kind enough to arrange my wounds to get treated. He knew of my true identity and I remember your folk just loved blonde, blue-eyed people back in the day, so I was welcomed with open arms."
The way 'loved' rolled of his tongue irked the policeman, but he chose to ignore the reference to his country's darkest period in time. He knew N wouldn't let the opportunity slip to further humiliate him. As expected, the latter continued his speech, a big grin plastered onto his rose lips.
"But to think he started a new family after we killed Isa and her bastard kid of his. Can you believe he trusted me fully, simply because I told him I didn't partake in the killing of his son, even though in reality I did?" He laughed. "Even I didn't expect him to be this gullible and to face his ancestor after all this time. Small world, huh."
'We'? Isa? Dorn dimly remembered the tattered journal and its entry. Something along the lines of 'My beloved and I, we made the decision to move, somewhere, where they don't find us'. Was Isa the author? With 'beloved' did she mean Ruven?
Henning bit his tongue. As much as he'd like to have asked further, he only had two questions left and one was already reserved for something very important – a matter of heart he had to settle.
Time for the second question.
"Why did you kill Elena?" His voice croaked when he phrased her name. All those years of no closure washed over him, letting the crack in his so usual stoic personality show.
"Elena?" N cocked his head to the side and squinted his eyes as if he had trouble remembering just who Dorn was talking about. Henning felt fury spreading in the pits of his stomach. His eye twitched.
N shrugged. "Ah, your sister. She swam in the Rhine and saw the real me. My urge to kill was strong and so I did. In hindsight, I should have left her that pretty bracelet."
Henning clenched his fist and closed his eyes. He'd make him pay as soon as he'd get the chance, but not now. A professional had to put rationality above emotion. And yet, it took him great effort to pull himself together without lashing out.
"Last question. Just who are you and why did you do all of this? What's your true motive here?"
N shook his head, smug. He lifted a finger in objection, wagging it in the air – originally Gessler's famous gesture.
"One question too much. You want to know who or rather what I am?"
The enemy creased his lips into a sadistic smile and lifted his chin. His voice took on a dark note, its tune strangely hollow.
"I'll show you once you save your friend there."
With his foot, N kicked Gessler's hunched stature's shoulder, tipping him over the edge. Without hesitation, Dorn jackknifed forward, but before he could even catch a fiber of the burgundy vest, the unconscious body plunged backwards into the dark green-blue waters of the Rhine. Faint memories triggered inside him.
No way. You can't swim?
Even if Gessler was conscious, there was no way he would survive. He had never learned how to swim. If Henning didn't follow suit, he'd drown, but then N would have the possibility to escape. His mind torn, he hesitated for a second.
Most people aren't capable to form a clear thought during the brief time span of an emergency, they just follow their instincts. Henning, however, saw the scene play in front of him in slow-motion – N's maniacal laughter echoing behind him, the way Gessler's body breached the Rhine's surface.
Sometimes decisions have to be made within seconds. And sometimes even a professional has to discard all sense of rationality in order to do what's morally right.
How many people should continue to fall victim to N's schemes?
He just couldn't let Gessler die. The human part in his heart would never allow it. And so, Dorn was left no choice but to take the plunge into the waters as well, headfirst into the blue.
Cold pierced through his bones, when he battled his way through masses of water, as if the Rhine's current put up resistance purposely to prevent him from saving his partner. Holding his breath, Dorn clawed his way through, stretching out his hands in hopes to catch a fiber of burgundy sinking slowly into the depths.
Gessler's expression was peaceful, tranquil even. Little air bubbles began to escape his nose and mouth. He was about to drown and that guy wouldn't even be awake to notice.
Dorn swam faster, harshly grabbed him by the wrist, careful not to slip up, turning to drag him towards the light above. Enveloped by frigid waters, his limbs turned numb, the strength began to fade away, since he not only had to carry himself, but another person and he felt his grip weaken the closer he approached the top.
He was no great swimmer himself, his lungs simply never had the capacity of an athlete, so the only thing that kept him going was the adrenaline coursing through him, drawing from the force of willpower deep within him. Air had left his system, keeping his mouth closed to not give in to the urge to pant felt impossible. With one hand, he reached for the light above the cerulean layer in front of him, finally breaking through.
Henning surfaced, gasping for air, an unconscious Gessler now clinging to his shoulder, one arm thrown around his neck for support. He was heavier than he appeared to be and once the journalist would wake up, the policeman would definitely rub that fact in his face.
Having saved that jerk's life better be worth it in the future.
Kissed by the faint rays of October's weak sun, Dorn, completely soaked, blinked the droplets away, rubbing his eyes. Coughing up water, he looked at the pier. No trace of N. Did he escape?
Henning put a finger below Gessler's nose, only to feel weak a weak air blast. He sighed in relief. The journalist was breathing. Dorn had saved him for now, but administering first aid was still needed. Slowly, he swam for the wooden dock, yearning to get out of this freezing hell, to get rid of the extra weight of another person on him.
Just when Dorn was able to lift the man's drenched body onto the pier, placing him safely away from the edge, still shivering from the cold, he was pulled back into the water at one go. There had been not enough time left to prepare and inhale fresh, new air to stabilize his breathing. Something had grabbed his leg, its claws gouged into his thigh and at incredible speed it pulled him meters below the surface. Pain, just like blood, began to spread and he felt a pair of arms running up his torso, tearing him down.
To his dismay, Henning saw himself get taken away from the cerulean layer of the surface. He flailed his arms and kicked his legs, without it having any effect. His attacker's grip was tight and powerful, so strong he thought his ribs might crack each time he moved.
Choking on the bare air he had left, his fingers reached for his opposite's throat behind him, scratching at leathery skin, pulling on strands of hair. Eyes squinted, he still desperately tried to inflict potential damage, hoping his resistance was enough to be freed from the grasp.
When Dorn cocked his head to the side to face the assailant, he gasped and freshwater began to fill his lungs.
He only recognized N because of those royal blue orbs of his. The rest of his appearance had undergone a complete transformation. Green-skinned and bare-chested, his golden locks had withered to seaweed-like strands, nails had grown into sharp, long claws, human legs had been exchanged for an emerald-scaled tail with fins to maneuver him across the waters at his leisure.
The creature flashed a wide, disgusting grin at him, sharp, green teeth showing.
Just like in Gessler's notes, Henning faced a real life sea monster, one only known in folklore and feared for centuries during the late Middle Age – a male nixie. And at its hands, he was about to die.
So this is what Elena must have seen in her last moments.
"Sweet dreams, human," the nix hissed.
Shaking his head, Dorn only managed to claw at one of his eyes, a desperate attempt to gouge one out. The nix cried out, crunching its fangs. With a weak smile on his lips, Dorn simply no longer had the strength left to do anything anymore. The edge of his vision darkened, drowsiness settled in.
As water continued to fill his bursting lungs and his consciousness drifted off, a whirlwind of golden curls whizzed past.